How Love Works
by desertredwolf
Summary: Neville is pulled out of time and space based on the whims of a Dark sorceress. /QL, S6R6, Puddles


**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.**

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 **Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition / Season Six, Round Five**

 **Team:** Puddlemere United

 **Position:** Captain

 **Prompt:** You must choose a character born in that month to write about from the list provided next to your team's chosen month.

 _Team month/character list: July: Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom._

 **Word Count (not including title and author's notes):** 1345 (Google Docs)

 **Betaed by: JBrocks917. Thank you!**

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 **How Love Works**

His eyes snapped open, and he took a shuddering breath.

"Excellent. You are awake."

Neville blinked, desperately gasping for air. _Where had—? What was going on?_ The world was too bright. Everything was spinning. He couldn't think straight, and his eyes fluttered shut. The voice, though soft and feminine, hurt his ears. Neville tried to block out her words and instead focus on something— _anything_ —familiar.

For one brief moment, Neville thought he could hear Hannah's voice whispering in his mind.

 _Breathe, Neville. Just keep breathing. Count backward from ten, and then do it again._

Right; that advice made sense.

He took another breath, this one much deeper, and cried out in pain. Correction: _Everything_ hurt. Neville didn't know for sure—he wasn't a Healer—but it felt like he had broken a couple of ribs.

"That is adorable. Tell me, who is the woman whispering in your thoughts?"

Groaning, he turned toward the voice and tried to open his eyes once more.

A woman about his age sat in a plain wooden chair next to the cot where he lay. While the room appeared rather plain and small—as far as Neville could see from his limited perspective—the woman was the exact opposite.

She radiated beauty and grace.

Her blue dress was incredibly ornate but old-fashioned. Her black hair had vines and flower buds entwined in it; they glowed like burning embers. She observed him, scrutinized him, and somehow made him feel insignificant. He, Neville Longbottom, war hero and slayer of Nagini, felt small compared to this petite woman. Then again, he had a sneaking suspicion that she could have made Snape feel inadequate.

Whoever, she was, Neville was dealing with a confident and persuasive person.

"Are you going to answer me?" she questioned, narrowing her eyes at him. "Who was the woman in your thoughts?"

He felt a headache set in, just behind his eyes. It was as if someone was taking a knife to his brain. Neville opened his mouth to respond but suddenly realized that it was sticky and dry.

"C-Can I...have...w-water?" Neville choked. He tried not to wince but failed; he sounded so weak and helpless.

" _Goddess_ , this is not what I asked for," she grumbled.

Neville observed as she rose and withdrew a wand. Silently waving it, she conjured a glass. The second flick of her wand filled it with crystal clear liquid. She handed the cup to him, and he took it shakily.

"You will have to sit up," she said, looking down her nose at him. "Unless you would like to end up with more water on your shirt and bed than inside you."

Neville instinctively knew that he would not get any help from her. Pushing himself through the shooting pain, he propped himself against the stone wall. It took only half a minute, but it felt so much longer. By the end of it, he was in a cold sweat.

Quietly, he took the glass from her hands and greedily drank the contents. The witch rolled her eyes and gently pressed the cup away from his mouth.

"If you drink that quickly, you will vomit," she instructed, ignoring his protests. "You must pace yourself."

He narrowed his eyes but knew she was right. If he didn't slow down, he would vomit. Quietly, and much more slowly, he drank the water under her watchful gaze.

"Where am I?" Neville finally asked. "One minute, I was with Hannah—"

"Ah, yes. Hannah. The woman who no longer loves you," the witch said knowledgeably, nodding for him to continue. Neville felt his insecurities flare. They were going through a rough patch, that was all. Every couple experienced times like that.

Right?

"It's fine," Neville growled. " _We're_ fine. It's complicated. That's all."

"Of course," she responded, although she sounded distinctly unimpressed. "Please, continue. Tell me about Hannah, and what you think happened."

"I was going to say that one minute, I was with Hannah," he said stiffly. "The next, I was here."

"Interesting," the witch murmured before abruptly standing.

Without another word, she walked to the other side of the room and knelt before a trunk. Flipping the latches, she revealed dozens of shimmering vials. Idly, she browsed through the contents before selecting two. Relocking the lid, she made her way back to his bedside.

She shoved a glittering green vial in his face. "Drink, please."

It wasn't a request, but Neville wasn't going to give in easily. He was injured and in pain, and held somewhere he didn't know. The woman was unusual. While she was helping him, there was something about her that made him uneasy.

Hesitantly, he took the vial. "It's not poison, is it?" he asked.

She laughed.

"Are you honestly only now asking this?" she said. "If I wished you dead, I would have poisoned the water or simply stabbed you in your sleep."

Neville paled at the thought. The witch was still grinning, but the merriment did not reach her eyes. If she wanted him gone, he would have never woken up in the unfamiliar room. That was an odd feeling. It crawled beneath his skin, unsettling him.

He didn't like feeling this powerless.

She must have sensed his discomfort because her face softened. Although, that was a bit of a stretch. It was like a lion trying to appear docile.

"It is a healing potion," she said. "You have multiple fractured ribs. Thankfully, this will heal them, as well as the internal bleeding."

Still hesitating, he gazed at her warily. She sighed in an exaggerated fashion and physically placed the vial in his hands.

"Drink," she commanded. "Unless you prefer a slow and painful death."

What choice did he have? Taking the cork out of the vial, he downed the contents all in one go, as he expected a terrible taste. Madam Pomfrey always gave students potions that made them want to gag. He had taken quite a few over the years. This was different. If there was a taste for summer sunshine and the color turquoise, this was it. It was pleasant and bubbled on his tongue.

He waited for only a moment before the effects kicked in.

"Thank you," Neville said appreciatively. He took a deep breath and immediately noticed the difference. Instead of a sharp pain, there was only a dull ache.

"You are welcome," the witch replied. Sighing, she sat back down in the chair.

"Problem?" he asked.

She nodded. "You are not what I expected. I simply—"

"Wait...hold up," Neville interrupted. The witch scowled and roughly poked his side, but otherwise said nothing. His muscles spasmed in pain.

"Was that necessary?" he gasped.

"Oh, I apologize," she replied sarcastically. "You were interrupting?"

"I want some questions answered," he said. "For starters—"

"Who am I? Where are you?" the witch said.

Neville raised an eyebrow. She grinned and shrugged.

"I have been practicing Legilimency," she said. She tried to make it seem that it did not matter. It obviously did. She was practically preening. "My name is Morgana. You are in a private chamber in the West Wing of Hogwarts Castle."

He stared at her in shock and disbelief. This was the Darkest sorceress in history, and she was _helping_ him.

"Hogwarts opened its doors to students fifteen years ago. I require you to be my servant and follow my orders without hesitation. We are going to destroy the Founders, and all that they represent."

She stared at him expectantly, as if her bombshell explained everything. So many thoughts raced through his mind, but the oddest one decided to spill out of his mouth.

"How am I a disappointment?"

Morgana sighed dramatically.

"The ritual I used was supposed to bring my soulmate to me," she said. "That way, they would be more pliable to my suggestions. You would not happen to feel that way for me, would you? I did heal you after all. It is a fair trade."

"I don't think that's how love works," Neville replied wryly.

She patted his head.

"Do not worry. You will eventually come around."


End file.
